


Is This How You'll Remember Me?

by smoakoverwatch



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, OTA, cause that's just what i do, it doesn't end terribly!!! i promise, title from hamilton, warnings to be safe, worried!Oliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 02:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9578768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoakoverwatch/pseuds/smoakoverwatch
Summary: She’s going to die here, lying alone under a flickering street lamp, two hands weakly pressing against her stomach in some futile effort to save herself.





	1. To Die By Your Side

**Author's Note:**

> Um. I wrote this a few months ago just to see if I could. And I'm trying to stick to my resolution to post more. It turns out I really hate unhappy endings. So there is an Oliver POV'd part two that I'm about halfway through writing. 
> 
> Set in an ambiguous future/timeline where Oliver and Felicity are happily married, and Felicity has her company back like she should. 
> 
> I think it's also worth mentioning that I tried to do some research about injuries but took some creative liberties. Hope it didn't sound completely unbelievable.

_Oh._

It’s the only thing Felicity can think of when she feels the pierce through her abdomen.

_Oh, this is how it ends._

In a dark street corner right by her hotel, somewhere she’s gone by countless times before, she is going to die.

If she wasn’t in an immeasurable amount of pain, she would laugh.

The great Overwatch going down in a mugging, the very same kind she worked with her team to stop countless nights before.

It feels a little anticlimactic.

If she’s being honest (and, really, she might as well be if she’s going to die), Felicity’s thought about her death a lot. It’s impossible to not have in her line of work. She always kind of figured if it was going to happen when she was young, it would be in her effort to make the city a better place.

She came close so many times, it just kind of seemed likely.

But it seems life had other plans for her.

She’s going to die here, lying alone under a flickering street lamp, two hands weakly pressing against her stomach in some futile effort to save herself.

God, Oliver’s going to kill her. Or more accurately, he’s going to be absolutely crushed. He’s going to find a way to blame himself for not being there, the idiot. But really, she’s the one who told him she needed to go to that conference at Gotham that seemed so important at the time.

A moment of complete selfishness overtakes her (and again, really, if she’s dying she should be allowed that) and she wishes Oliver were with her right now. She doesn’t want to be alone.

Just as her head starts getting lighter, she feels a faint buzzing against her thigh.

Her phone is ringing.

Her already wet eyes blur her vision further but she doesn’t need to check to know that only one person would be calling now to make sure she got home safe.

Maybe dying wishes _are_ a thing.

She lifts one hand off her stomach -- oh _frack_ that is a lot of red -- and reaches down to answer the ringing. Lo and behold, she’s met with Oliver’s image -- an old one from their first foundry, her favourite -- giving a small smile at her. She doesn’t realize her hand is shaking until she notices her wedding band, stained with just a touch of red, glint in the flickering light as she moves her thumb to pick up the call.

“Hello?” she chokes out, instantly regretting the way her voice sounds.

“Hey hon.” the sound of Oliver’s voice floods her with a feeling of serenity. Just knowing that he’s out there and he’s safe makes this easier. “I was just finished up for the day and I was thinking about you. I really miss you. There was this guy I had a meeting with and I swear he and Curtis were separated at birth, the way he was talking about some tech thing I didn’t understand. Anyway, I just thought you would have gotten a kick out of it if you were here. How was the last day of the conference?”

Despite everything, she’s smiling at his ramble. God, she misses him so much.

“It was okay,” it’s getting harder to talk, is that normal? “‘M missing you a lot though, can’t wait to be home.” by the end of her sentence, everything feels like it’s coming out as a mumble. So that’s probably bad. She should be worried, but then Oliver starts talking in her ear.

“You sound tired,” his voice hints at worry, which is kind of funny to Felicity in an awful, dark way. “Get some rest, your flight home is early tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” she slurs out. She decides that, if this is really going to be the last time she gets to talk to him, it’s going to be nice. She doesn’t want to ruin it.

“And I was thinking, when you get back --” he pauses and lets out a frustrated sigh, “actually, sorry Felicity, Thea’s tried calling me twice while I was talking to you. I’ll try you again later, okay?”

 _Don’t go, don’t leave me alone here,_ she wants to beg him. Her eyes well up with more tears. “Okay. I love you, Oliver.”

“Love you too. I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow.”

And just like that, she’s alone again. And now, she’s scared. She should have told him, why was she being so stupid? He could have gotten her help, even if he is on the other side of the country.

Her phone is still in her hand, so she tries to dial 911, but she can’t.

Her breath stops when it takes her four tries to realize the feeling in her fingers have given out. Whatever she had before -- shock? Adrenaline? -- is gone and she’s terrified. Her vision is starting to get spotty and the sweat that’s collected on her forehead is trickling down. This is it.

Briefly she wonders how Oliver all those years ago on the mountain top. He doesn’t like to talk about it, all she knows is that he thought of her. She wonders if he felt the same way she does right now.

The obvious difference here is that Oliver clearly has at least nine lives, if not more, up his sleeve. And he has always found his way back to her.

Right now? She doesn’t think she’ll be as lucky.

Her brain starts to feel foggier, which makes sense, but despite all the cloudiness she forces her mind to keep working.

She thinks of everyone, her team, her family.

Of laughing over burgers in the foundry with John back when Oliver was still the Hood. Of asking Thea to be her maid of honor just under a year ago. Of the last time her mother called, pestering her about grandkids -- the grandkids Felicity will never be able to give her, she realizes sadly.

She hears the sound of footsteps against the pavement and for a second, everything shifts into clarity. She opens her mouth but speaking is harder than it was five (or was it longer than that?) minutes ago.

“ _Help,”_ her voice sounds hoarse, lying there completely unable to move makes her feel completely helpless.

Whoever it is comes closer, and they’re saying something but Felicity has no idea what. It’s a feminine voice. Sounds motherly. It reminds her of Donna.

The woman is still speaking, probably asking Felicity something, but she can’t bring herself to focus. All she can think of are Oliver’s last words over the phone ringing through her head before everything goes black.


	2. There is a Light That Never Goes Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Part two. I was a little surprised by the reaction to the first part, to be honest. People, I could never actually kill Felicity! The very thought pains me. A few of you also had questions about who found her, so I threw in a small hint there, but it’s still intentionally ambiguous.
> 
> Anyway, this was supposed to be a short little piece that tied up a happy ending for my own needs (and the asymmetry between the two parts will always bother me), but it slightly ran away from me and I started channeling my need for a little OTA and some leftover resentment from 4x10.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Oliver’s not humble enough to say his life hasn’t seen its fair share of hardships.

No.

Oliver is no stranger to pain. To fear. To grief and heartache and guilt and all the emotions that would make it hard for anyone to keep going.

He’s faced his tough moments. He lived through thinking Sara was dead more times than he should have. He watched his father put a bullet in his own brain for him. He lived through feeling so cold and helpless he was sure his toes would fall off and being so deliriously starved and dehydrated that some days passed by in a haze he’ll never get back.

He’s felt complete despair clawing at his insides when he couldn’t save Shado. Or watching Akio’s eyes close for the last time in Tatsu’s arms. Or feeling Tiana go limp and lifeless under him.

Getting to Tommy too late. His mother falling on the cold grass. Finding his sister bleeding out on the floor of his loft.

And so on, and so forth.

But he kept going. Kept surviving. Even when all he wanted to do was stop and tell the world that _yes, this is too much, you win. I’m done._ No matter what, there was something pushing him forward.

Until now.

Now? Nothing feels real.

Now he’s sitting in a plane that isn’t moving nearly fast enough and he just _can’t_ focus.

It was early in the morning when he got the phone call. He wasn’t sleeping, he was in the lair working out to blow off steam. He always felt extra restless when Felicity was out of town.

When he gets the news, for a long time nothing makes sense. He stands in the lair for, what? Twenty minutes? Before he’s able to get his legs to move.

He moves on autopilot, driving until he ends up at City Hall. He lets the car go idle as he stares at the front steps, wondering what brought him here until the empty feeling in his back pocket where his wallet would be reminds him.

He isn’t sure what time it is, but he knows it can’t be later than 7, so he’s surprised to see a handful of people bustling about inside.

Someone whose name escapes him marches up to him the minute he enters.

Someone – Margaret, a voice that sounds worryingly like Felicity’s supplies – walks up to him the minute she sees him.

“Sir,” she presses her lips together, “we all came in as soon as we heard. I was just trying to reach you, actually.”

“You –“ he pauses to clear his throat. “You heard?”

“Yes,” she says, and then hesitates for a moment before adding, “It was on the news this morning.”

All Oliver can do is nod. Everyone knows.

He ignores the part of him that tells him he’s losing control of yet another thing and forces himself to keep going.

“Why did you come in?” He sees the flash of sympathy in her eyes and he knows exactly how his voice sounds. It’s a feeling he never wanted to experience again.

Helplessness.

“Making some arrangements,” she says, looking down at the papers in her hand.

He’s not a fan of the way she phrases that.

“Your itinerary for a flight to Gotham. Plane will be ready to take off an hour and a half. I hope that’s okay. All your meetings and appearances have been rescheduled until further notice. But you don’t need to worry about that. There’s a car waiting for you outside to take you to the airport when you’re ready.”

He takes a deep breath, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, and nods.

She gives him a small smile. “We all cared about Mrs. Queen very much, sir.”

He has to swallow hard when the knot forms in his throat, all he can do is nod again as he follows someone else out to the town car parked on the curb.

The briefing continues all the way to his seat on the plane. Being a mayor doesn’t just end when you need to be a worried husband, it seems.

After a while the words get a little hard to focus on.

“Right now it looks like a mugging, she might not have been targeted but the police are still investigating…”

All he can think of is her.

“She had to be transferred to Gotham General and the doctors haven’t….”

The day they got married, her smile lit up the room. He had never seen anything so radiant before.

“Sir, we’ve taken care of releasing statements to the media at this time, but there’s something else we need to consider…”

The first night they had dropped everything and left Starling City together, they stopped off at some dingy hotel off the interstate. Tangled up with her in the hot summer air, he thought that nothing, _nothing¸_ could ever get better than this.

“Sir? Did you hear me? I just said you should probably call her mother and let her know you’re on the way to Gotham. I-I don’t mean to impose, but I know the three of you were close and –“

He finds his voice again.

“Thank you, Margaret. I’ll give her a call now.” The fact that they’re slightly delayed because of the weather does nothing to make his tone sound less cold. Margaret gets the hint and gives him some privacy.

It’s a painful, short conversation. Donna didn’t know, she was still sleeping from pulling a late shift the night before. Breaking the news to her is one of the hardest things he has to do. He doesn’t know how to put into words that the person they both care about most is now on the other side of the country hanging onto life by a thread.

Naturally, Donna is hysterical. Between sobs he manages to tell her he’s on his way to Gotham and that he’ll update her as soon as he can.

It’s selfish, childish even, that he can’t manage to stay on the phone for just ten more minutes with his mother in law. So he presses his eyes shut and chokes out a lie about his flight taking off and needing to get off the phone.

He knows if he keeps talking to her he’ll break. And he can’t break. Not yet, at least.

He stares at his phone screen for a minute after disconnecting the call. His most recent call log shows two things: the unknown number from the hospital that called him. And Felicity, around 9 PM the night before.

An icy feeling settles over his veins as he stares at the words.

This could be his last conversation with her and he didn’t even know it at the time.

He wracks his brain desperately to remember what they had talked about. It was probably like countless other phone conversations. He only vaguely remembers getting a few minutes in before having to hang up to answer Thea but it feels like a lifetime ago.

He wants to kick himself. The possible last conversation with his wife and he doesn’t fully remember it.

Before he can get lost in the spiral of what _that_ implies, the seat across from him Margaret was occupying shifts again.

He looks up to see John settling in silently. His eyes are rimmed red but he still raises his eyebrows almost challengingly.

“Going somewhere, Oliver?”

Oliver swallows hard, feeling caught. He should have called him right away. “John,” he rasps out, “I –“

But Diggle is already shaking his head.

“Let’s just worry about getting to our girl right now.”

Olive can only nod in response. The weight that’s made home on his chest doesn’t relent, but he does feel stronger now that his brother is by his side.

* * *

Two years ago after the Ghosts attacked their limo and left Felicity fighting for her life and through a revolving door of surgeries, Oliver let her wake up alone in the hospital.

He does not make the same mistake twice.

It takes several hours of sitting in a cold waiting room while she’s in surgery. It takes four coffee runs and one burger Diggle forces him to eat (McDonalds, because they don’t have Big Belly out east – a fact that Felicity had complained about at least a dozen times on her trip). But he waits. He talks to Donna two more times, getting progressively better at comforting her and even manages to convince her not to come to Gotham, but to save her days off for a visit to Star City.

The conversation he has with Gotham’s finest is…. interesting. He probably pushes the worried husband thing with the amount of details he and John are pushing for, but both are too focused on their silent agreement to put multiple arrows in this son of a bitch to care.

It’s only when he asks, “who found her?” does the detective shift uncomfortably.

“Um, well, I know you’re not from around here Mr. Queen, but our city has this team…”

Oliver nods and clenches his jaw when the detective trails off awkwardly. He’s familiar with the team that mirrors his own almost uncomfortably. He doesn’t know how he feels about being indebted to them.

In the end, it takes about eighteen hours after he got on the plane until he sees her eyes again. Eighteen hours until he can finally breathe.

In all the time he sat (and paced, and wandered, and worried the skin off his lip) waiting for her, Oliver tried to think of the first thing he’d do or say to her.

As she so often does, Felicity beats him to it.

“Hey stranger,” her voice is raspy, exhausted. Her eyes are barely open – presumably fighting the effects of her painkillers, but she still gives him a dopey smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Any words he has fly out the window when his eyes fill with tears and he looks down at the remarkable woman in front of him.

She lets out a small grunt when she tries to reach out to him, which spurs him into action. He drags his chair closer to her bed and grabs her hand, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing his lips against her fingers.

“I love you,” he mumbles into her palm, his eyes fluttering shut in the feeling of her soft skin, “don’t you go scaring me like that again, please.”

She huffs out a laugh, “I’ll try not to.” She mumbles with a roll of her eyes. “Thank you for being here.”

He squeezes her hand. “Always.”

She’s still smiling tiredly at him, he can see her eyelids are growing heavier, and he _should_ let her rest, but there’s one thing nagging at him.

“Felicity, I just – I have one question.” The words tumble out.

She hums in response.

“When I called that night– did you –“ the question crept up on him somewhere during hour eight of waiting, when his mind ran out of things to busy himself with and circled back to the phone call. Once the initial fog of panic had cleared and he remembered how odd she had sounded that night, a haunting realization had settled over him.

Her smile fades as understanding dawns over her features. When she looks down uncomfortably, his vision gets blurry once again. “ _Felicity,”_

“Oliver,” she shifts to sit herself up, her face only slightly screwing up in pain. “when you said goodbye to us in Nanda Parbat, without sharing your _ridiculous_ plan to crash a plane into the ground, you did it for a reason. And I….”

“What?” he has to fight to keep his voice steady. “You get it now?”

“No,” she almost scoffs, “your plan was ridiculous and you should always listen to me, honey.”

His lips turn up a little bit against his will.

“But I did get that you were probably scared.” She continues, her voice steadily losing the steel it held before, “that’s how I felt. I was terrified, and alone, and all I had was your voice. I thought it would be the last time I heard it and, Oliver, I didn’t want to ruin that.”

The tears fall down Oliver’s cheeks without his permission as she looks up at him with guilty eyes.

“Well _that_ was a ridiculous plan.”  

 She huffs a small laugh.

The door opening pulls them out of their conversation, and both turn to see Diggle standing at the door, a wide grin spreading over his tired features.

“Hey,” Felicity says with a grin, “John’s here now, it’s a party.”

The two men laugh as he moves closer to her bed. “Really missed me that much, Felicity?” he jokes. “Had to get me out here?”

  
“Well, you know how I feel about travelling alone.”

Diggle barks out a laugh as he settles in a seat next to Oliver, launching into a story he knows is a perfect way to distract her.

He knows they have more – way, _way_ more – to discuss. But right now Oliver is perfectly happy to share a rare quiet moment with his two best friends, savouring the way his wife’s smile lights up, savoring in the feeling that she’s okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Twitter - @smoakoverwatch  
> Tumblr - overwatchandarrow


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